


Road Less Taken

by Exodus314



Category: Star Trek
Genre: 23rd century Hate Crimes, Angst, Comfort, Hurt Spock, It goes from Bad to Good to Bad to Really Good, M/M, Original Female Character - Freeform, Spock-centric, Vulcan Culture, slowish burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2020-07-19 20:34:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19980121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exodus314/pseuds/Exodus314
Summary: Spock is not compromised. He is not.(A story where Spock is definitely compromised, and he needs a little help to get through it.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I tried my best with the grammar, unfortunately it’s not my strength.  
> Here’s a story about Spock, actually coming to terms, with being a Hybrid helping others along the way.

Identity. As a young child, Spock in his occasional emotional indulgence yearned to know what it was like to exist with an identity that was less, in the simplest of terms, complicated. Now as Spock has gotten older, embraced the Logic of Surak, those feelings do not exist anymore. He’s recognized they serve no purpose. Though many parts of identity are a choice, there are some things that simply cannot be changed. Spock cannot change his controversial background anymore than a river can change its own direction. As a river cannot change itself, Spock cannot either. Kaiidth. What is, is.

If Spock were a lesser Vulcan, a … more emotionally indulgent individual he would say his mere existence is a clear smudge on Vulcan and its history rather than any sign of improvement. Spock does not feel anger or shame in this fact. It is simply that, a fact. It’s not an incredibly hard fact to deduce either. Spock’s childhood was filled with constant reminders. A good example of this outside the experience of his classmates constant harassment, his father, an accomplished ambassador was a man to many Vulcan as someone who had committed one of the most illogical choices to-date. Marrying a human, and even fathering a child with one. A hybrid, whose chances of living were unsurprisingly low, with one of one of the most illogical species apart of the Federation. A hybrid which his father was told from the cold, emotionless tongue of the Vulcan Ra-pha, or Healers, would live a short and weak existence. His father was not a pariah amongst the Vulcan people, he was undeniably respected for his

accomplishments in keeping peace and relations with Earth. But there existed in every Vulcan mind, knowing the truth of the illogical and unnecessity of these choices. And for that their existed an often tangible tension in the political sphere of Vulcan. In his limited and growing strained interactions with his father Sarek, his father continued with insisting that his marrying of his mother was of sound logic, where emotion had little value. For that no one can accept, not even Spock himself- the result of the very bond. When he was younger, a young ye-led, he often felt a deep anger towards his father, particularly as the experiences with his classmates in the Ha’sheva grew more and more frequent. He couldn’t understand how a man who encouraged him to express logic and control in the time of plight and what seemed to be hopelessness could not seem to exercise the same when concerning the idea of a hybrid child and the possible suffering and untimely death of a child due to their hybridism. And even in all his acquired knowledge, many accomplishments as a scientist and officer he still cannot understand the supposed logic his existence is founded on. 

But Spock has come to conclude whatever the argument may be, it will not change the tension his mere existence created and continues to create especially as a small minority of the Vulcan population feel encouraged to seek possible mates out of the Vulcan race by his continually beating heart in his lower left chest. His birth, and longevity give promise, and dare he say, hope to those who have done the unthinkable in Vulcan society - “fall in love.” It has become painstakingly aware a Dominos effect is taking place on Vulcan, and he’s to blame. If he had died as expected a mere 24-48 hours after his death, wailing in horrific pain and confusion as his tiny body shut down one eternal organ after another then this conversation would cease to exist. His passing would quickly silence the thoughts and crush the hopes of the Vulcans who ‘found love in the wrong places,’ his loss of life being more than enough warning to the eager. And his death would have appeased the Vulcans who would not mind to see a law passed that banned simply any interaction between a Vulcan and an outsider. Type of people who wanted to see his sister Michael Burnham off the planet, or to the very extreme dead. But he exists, and has so for 23.2 years, and not only is this an undeniable fact of the universe, but also he is successful, a First Officer and Science Officer on the dubbed “best ship in the Federation.” He has become a hope, or a pain. And it seems more and more that he is simply that, just a pain for the Vulcan people. Spock, does not feel sad, anger, or troubled at this revelation. Feelings do not benefit him, but particularly these will serve no other purpose than a decrease in efficiency and ability to function. It will not change that he does indeed exist, and resides in a comfortable position. So, Kaiidth. What is, is. 

Spock continues to ponder this line of thought as he closely observes the being before him. A living example of the illogical interest and hope few Vulcans wish to entertain. An Aenar-Vulcan female child. No more than 6.5 Earth years in age. Her skin is the same pale, milky blue complexion like all other Aenar. On her small cranium exists the two antennas, and in opposition of normal Aenar features a head of dark brown hair shaped in the typical Vulcan fashion. Her ears, and eyebrows are pointed, another clear sign of her Vulcan heritage. She stares up at him. What she is thinking Spock cannot possibly tell. But he ponders, knowing Aenar’s extreme capabilities in non-touch telepathy if she knows what he is thinking. 

“Affirmative.” The reply cuts through the silence of the conference room, she is still staring up at him. Her face is blank, devoid of any emotion. A clear sign she is learning the Vulcan way of Logic, she raises her hand in the sign of the Ta’al “I am T’hvi S’ln T’Batya from House of Stov.”

Spock does the same gesture in response, responding, “Shelem T’Batya. I am S’chn T’gai Spock House of Surak. I was unaware that we had acquired a Aenar-Vulcan for the duration of our trip.”

If Spock were slightly distracted, less focused, or even uninterested by the prospect of her existence, particularly on this ship he would not have noticed the small flinch when he expressed knowledge of her clear dual heritage. The flinch was quickly contained, admirable in attempt at control but simply not enough for Spock not to notice. Spock, though, unsure exactly as to why such a reaction occurred can give a solid hypothesis. It reminds him of all the incidents in his younger days when he would tense at the mention at the term human. Many of his peers used the term as an insult, and Spock quickly became wary of any mention of it, especially when directed towards him. It’s not that he did not understand logically, he was indeed human, half- human. But it was clear they used his heritage as a means, a code if you will, to mean less Vulcan. 

“My father is a high-ranking government official who was chosen to represent the Aenar-Andorian government, we are to be transported to the Federation Starbase 32 to discuss peace treaties that will occur in the next 26.7 hours.” 

Ah, Spock remembers days like those. As his father was the Vulcan ambassador to not just Earth but the entirety of the Federation. He spent many days just like T’Batya traveling to worlds with names unpronounceable and foreign, residing on planets with temperatures below freezing to near boiling (even in comparison to his home world Vulcan). He remembered on one occasion even going to Andoria. The temperature below freezing, the icy core unforgivable and unkind to people like Vulcans who resided in planets far hotter than its own. He recalled the inability of his young self to clamp down on the rushing feeling of relief when they finally started to pack for departure from planet after talks had finished. 

“Fascinating,” was all Spock could respond with at her explanation. Though as he continued to interact with her he became more and more interested on the polar opposites that seemed to make T’Batya the child she was today. Aenar shared the planet Andoria with the Andorians, they were a people who existed in extreme sub-zero temperatures spread across the planet. Vulcans were a near exact opposite, a people that existed on a desert and harsh hot climate. How did her parents come to bond? Did T’Batya live on Vulcan or Andoria? Or neither? Could she exist in either of these extreme climates with ease or was her genetic makeup better suited for Andoria over Vulcan or vice-versa? 

“To answer your inquiry I reside on both Vulcan and Andoria. In Andoria’s warmer cycles around the sun I live there, and in Vulcan’s cooler season I live there. You said you were Spock, the hybrid son of Sarek and Amanda Son of Gray?” Spock does not bother to correct her on the incorrect way his mother’s human name is said. He can tell there’s an emotion there in that question, if Spock were like his peers, and his elders he would scold T’Batya for the clear infliction in her voice, she seems curious, but also something else. Something Spock for all his interaction with overly emotional beings companions on the Enterprise he can’t quite place. 

“Affirmative.” 

“I must confess, I am… grateful to make your acquaintance, as the humans would say. May I ask you a question, Son of Sarek?”

Before Spock agrees to this, he calculates the probability of this being about his Hybrid status around 86.4 percent. It is the only logical conclusion, the clear connection and interest she has would make sense. Vulcan hybrids in comparison to many other kinds such as Aenar-Andorian Hybrids are few and far between. Many Vulcans see no logic in mating with those outside their own race, the risks in giving birth already are exponentially high and a hybrid Child would only raise the risks which could easily result in death. Combined with the chances of the child living throughout their entire life with ease and lack of disability brought on by birth defects are low. Science for all the vast knowledge and branches to be studied, and expanded on has brought the Federation and its planets the ability to create Hybrid children from an array of different races something once thought impossible. However, the risks and low-chances of an easy and successful birth and life for a Hybrid are still astronomically low. On average less than 16.9 percent, though the numbers can vary and there are poorly named ‘miracles.’ Still, not odds anyone who wishes to parent a child would like ‘to gamble with,’ as the humans say. Needless to say Vulcans do not gamble especially on probability as low as 16.9 percent. And the Vulcan hybrid experience is particularly unique. He had met a multitude of persons who had human, and non-human heritage but the number of those he had met with dual Vulcan heritage was… none. T’Batya was the first, the only.

“You may,” is Spock’s response. He has no other. It is illogical to deny anyone, particularly the young, the access to knowledge and answers. 

“I… must confess, my time on Vulcan has not been an easy one, even in comparison to my time on Aenar. In Andoria I am stared at and scrutinized. In Vulcan I am harassed and sometimes attacked by other children. Though both of my experiences have both been negative on each planet, statistically, Vulcan has been 2.3 times more hostile than my other planet Andoria. In my recent cycles around the sun, I have become… compromised. Many questions and doubts have been brought forth, and I cannot seem to find answers on my own. So Spock, Son of Sarek, may I ask you does Vulcan ideology reject diversity?”

Spock breathes in and he breathes out. Her question is worded diplomatically, as much as someone her age can muster. But he understands the underlying insecurity and point:  _ Why do other Vulcans hate me?  _ Spock remembers when he was younger not older than lehkuh tevun that the question seemed to linger in his mind, his very Katra in every interaction he had with his peers and elders. The distrust, the disdain, the insults, and the physical incidents equaled a troubling equation. Infinite Diversity Infinite Combinations - IDIC as the philosophy commonly known - encouraged the celebration and acceptance of diversity and wherever it seemed to reside. But it was clear an unspoken rule existed around the premise which could be summed up: as long as said diversity resides on other than Vulcan. At this moment try as he might he can’t help but  _ feel  _ something for her. It’s been years since an emotion had passed his shields like this and it’s full force feels like a tide hitting the rocky shore. It feels like an electric thrumming running down his body. She has experienced the less tolerant side of Vulcan society. For that he grieves. He grieves that a child lost their ability to feel secure on a planet meant to be theirs just like any other Vulcan. He grieves that she’s lost the ability to  _ not have to justify her existence.  _ Before she was ever even born Vulcan had given up, as they say, on her. Her peers and elders don’t understand, they never will. Spock doesn’t know how to respond to her question. Vulcans do not lie, but is not a lie to tell her Vulcan philosophy does not reject diversity. It’s not the truth however, to say that diversity is the majority of Vulcan’s interest. He is unsure, he wishes to soothe her concerns, while also keeping his honesty, his integrity intact but he knows that is against probability and possibility.

So he says, “T’Batya, I am unsure that I am suited to answer such an inquiry.”

As he watches her face contorted into a clear sign of despair, tears pricking the edges of her eyes, Spock concludes he is not proud of his answer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor T’Batya.  
> Yeah I just made up a bunch of Vulcan words based loosely, very loosely on Hebrew, except for one thing.  
> Here’s a list:  
> Ye-led - 16th century Golic slang for boy  
> Ra-pha - another term for Vulcan Healer, typically one that has had training in that of Vulcan traditional healing methods  
> Ha’sheva - traditional term for a learning institute  
> Shelem- Peace, a formal greeting given to those who are meeting from different house, has mostly fallen out of usage, though still used in prestigious houses.  
> Lehkuh Tevun - Ten years
> 
> Sorry for any mistakes, I’m pretty sure I’ll get better as I go on, till next time.


	2. Jim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went through the five stages of grief posting this chapter. One of the hardest chapters I have ever had the pleasure of writing. Any unknown terms are translated at the end notes.

After a deep Hit-bode-duh session during his break Spock returns to his duties. His interaction with T’Batya had been a draining one, specifically on his control. Spock does not see the small hybrid for the rest of his shift, but he does see Jim. Jim was his first companion on the Enterprise, and is his superior officer. It often seemed like he and Jim were polar opposites, if Spock were a planet then Jim was a sphere of hot gas made up of mostly hydrogen atoms, like 40 Eridani. His constant force of gravity keeping Spock in his orbit. Spock is fascinated by Jim. He has been since Jim was made the Captain of the Enterprise after Pike’s departure. He is everything that perplexed his Vulcan logic . A person filled with hypocrisies, and contradictions, that should work against each other in every conceivable way but somehow perform efficiently. Jim entered his lab in the Science Department with a wide smile, his lips curved above a set of white, clean teeth. And in that moment Spock can’t help but wonder what it is like to be full-human. He has, in many times of his life, especially concerning his mother thought about this before. His trips when he was younger to Earth were few and far between, mostly for diplomatic reasons. However, when Spock was young, leh-reh, he performed what was considered a Bar-Mitzvah. He remembers vividly, his father nearly losing his control over the whole celebration. It had been a great source of argument and debate between his mother and father about this event happening. His mother often ended up losing, in tears due to the frustration and inability to get through to her husband. Sarek believed this event to be undermining Spock’s ability to become ‘truly Vulcan.’

_ “Participating in such an event does not allow him to truly embrace logic. Holidays are illogical, particularly those of human origins.” _

He remembers his mother’s silence, the anger contorting her face as she processed each singular word he said. Sarek was aware immediately his response was not taken well. He gave one look to Spock, and Spock had taken his leave immediately. What she said, he will never know, but within 6 months they were on a shuttle to Earth for his Bar-Mitzvah. That was the one interaction Spock had with human culture intimately. It was a mixture of fascinating and fatiguing. And made Spock truly recognize the difference that separates him from other humans. Since that day he’s always pondered the ability of Humans to be so open and free with their emotions. To let emotions rule their life so strongly and not tear each other apart. They’ve come close, but not in the way the pre-reform Vulcan were mere days away from extinction. They fascinated him. 

“Hello, Mr. Spock.” 

Jim is by his side with in a matter of 6.2 seconds. He eases his way into what could be considered Spock’s ‘personal space’. Spock doesn’t mind. He can nearly feel Jim’s hot breathe on his shoulder, as he’s hunched over a num-zan-vel studying the latest sample of soil collection from a recent trip to Selus a planet known for its rich soil content. Spock quickly turns the num-zan-vel off and gives the Captain his undivided attention. His Captain is staring up at him, his smile still placed upon his face. His entire posture exudes welcoming and warmth. 

“Captain,” is all the response Spock gives. 

Jim smiles wider, “You know, we have this mission at Starbase 32. It is going to be a long one. Want to play a little chess before we arrive?”

Spock still has .06 hours left of his shift. He cannot abandon his responsibilities simply because the Captain wishes to play chess. No matter how interested Spock is in the recreational activity, he cannot leave his post. Spock tell himself he doesn't feel disappointed at the prospect of denying Jim’s invitation. At all.

“I must decline,” Spock replies, “I have 0.6 hours left in my shift.”

Jim visibly deflated, his smile disappears, and his poster becomes downtrodden, “Aw, C’mon, Spock. You’re looking at what, dirt?”

He can tell as humans often do that Jim is making a joke, of sorts. It took him months to figure out that Jim often likes to ‘fool around’ with those he considers companions. He remembered at many times being confused, and frustrated at Jim’s nonchalant statements, particularly surrounding Spock’s hobbies, only to realize that Jim was just attempting to connect with him in the only way he knew how to. He doesn’t understand, but accepts it nonetheless. 

“I am looking at what you would consider a mixture of minerals, gases, and matters. Silt, sand, clay, and humus you humans would say. I would not dare use your time to bore you with the exact details,” Spock responds. He’s aware his tone would be considered cheeky by humans. Not that he would ever admit it.

Jim’s smile returns, full force. Spock wouldn’t dare say he likes the way him and Jim communicate. Just that he prefers it. Jim understands him like no other human being, or any being for that matter. Jim is never confused, frustrated, or even angered by Spock’s inability to understand his own customs. He’s understanding and warm. Spock can at least appreciate that. Not many of his Human or Vulcan counterparts are like Jim. Understanding of him. Able to peer into his thoughts, his personality, his very Katra and not shun his every existence. He is at peace with Jim’s existence in his life. Jim gives a chuckle and leans over his work space. In the process he scatters Spock’s carefully placed papers concerning his current experiment. Jim seems to get over his disappointment at the denial in a matter of seconds. Fascinating, is all Spock can think.

“And they say you don’t have a sense of humor, Mr. Spock.”

Spock is not sure who this ‘they’ is. He is unaware of any such claim from ‘they.’ Not that he is bothered by such a belief in the slightest. It’s not like it is an incorrect conclusion. He does not have a sense of humor. Humor is illogical, unnecessary. It is utterly, and completely non-Vulcan. He often remembers the little jokes, many so-called puns, his mother used to make to him and her husband. For what reason he had little idea why. She was fully aware of the lack of response to such stimuli, but continued to do so regardless. Much of it didn’t make sense to Spock, most of it being references to Earth culture, history, and entertainment. 

“They, whoever they are, would be correct in such a conclusion, Captain.” 

Spock looks Jim in the eyes, watching his Captain, his friend, a slight chuckle, with a raised eyebrow. Jim does not believe he does not have a sense a humor. It’s written in every inch of that expression. Spock has no interest in correcting him. He is fascinated by Jim’s vast and unique facial expressions. The way his mouth twists and turns. His brown, bright eyes showing every second of Jim’s emotions. The way his cheeks become rosy or pronounced depending on his mood. Fascinated, indeed he was. Spock in his career with Starfleet had numerous interactions with the human species daily. There was nothing like interacting with James T. Kirk. The man was open, honest, and so emotionally volatile around Spock in a way that no other human dared be. Spock, felt… wanted in Jim’s space. Something he had seldom experienced in his many years, even as a decorated Officer on the Enterprise. Many of his interactions with his colleagues existed a tangible uneasiness. It is not like they disliked him persay, but could never act like they did with him in comparison to other crewmates. With Jim it was different. Even through the constant emotionalism, there existed no awkward cultural tension between them. Regardless of how differently they communicated, Jim was always able to understand Spock, and vice-versa. 

Spock thinks of all the different cultures he has interacted with and he doesn’t know why, but he is brought back to thoughts of T’Batya. The young hybrid child from two extreme opposite poles concerning culture and biology. He thinks of his response to her inquiry. Spock does not feel regret. Regret is illogical. To acknowledge one’s mistakes is healthy, way of growing and learning. To dwell on one’s mistakes is a waste of a finite resource: time. Regret cannot change the past. Nor will it fix the issue at hand. So, he does not feel it. But he is not proud of what he said. He’s very well aware that his response, in the simplest of terms would be considered a “cop out,” to humans. Spock looked at Jim. What would Jim think of his lack-luster response? His inability to tell the truth to a clearly troubled little ye-led-ah was uncanny. 

“Captain, May I ask you for some advice?”

Jim looks at him, not really shocked but taken aback. It is rare for Spock to ask for advice. Usually wanting to solve his problems and issues alone without the need for help. 

“Sure, Spock. What is it?”

Spock breathes in, and breathes out, “I had a conversation if you will. A question was asked, and my answer was less than satisfactory. To the point it caused a violent emotional response from the recipient. I am unsure how to proceed the person involved was but a Vulcan child. I apologize for the vague recollection, the conservation surrounded a sensitive subject I do not wish to divulge at the moment.”

Jim groaned, clearly unhappy, “Spock, you aren’t giving me a lot to work with here. You have to give me something involving the incident so I can better help you out. I’m assuming this has something to with Vulcan politics, culture, and whatnot?”

Spock is unsure if he should divulge any more information. Jim is an outsider, he has no right to pass any judgement on current Vulcan affairs. Jim has no Vulcan experience or context. He couldn’t, wouldn’t understand. It would make Vulcan look… distasteful. But this is Jim, a man filled with understanding and compassion. This was a man who was his friend, his companion. If any human could understand it, it would be Jim. His Vulcan elders and peers would disapprove, but they have always disapproved of Spock. Divulging such information wouldn’t affect Spock and his social standing on Vulcan. His mere dual heritage makes it improbable, if not impossible to garner any approval from those on Vulcan. Jim, his friend, had given him more than he could ever need. Jim would understand.

“As you are aware I am a half-breed. Part-Vulcan, Part-Human. Majority of my DNA makeup is Vulcan. I have lived on Vulcan my entire childhood. I was born on the sands of Shi’Kahr, my city of origin.Yet as a child, regardless of what I did to prove myself, I was never considered a true Vulcan. At the age of seven, I took on the Kahs-wan early, a Vulcan tradition in which a Vulcan child survives in the Vulcan wilderness for ten days, without food, water, or weapons. Without my parents permission or knowledge I fled into the dangerous deserts of Vulcan. Simply because I felt the need to prove myself to the other children. Throughout my childhood I was an outcast. The insults surrounding me and my family were vicious. These verbal remarks soon led to several psychical encounters. My elders engaged in consistently making comments concerning my person, my very existence. Many saw my existence as illogical.”

The silence is deafening. The empty lab became eerily quiet. Spock looks in Jim’s eyes. He’s unhappy with what he is hearing. Spock did not expect any less. Spock despite his difficulties, was aware Jim cared deeply for him. On several occasions Jim had  _ saved his life _ . So it is unrealistic to not expect such a reaction. Jim is frowning, his flat eyebrows furrowed. He looks like he desperately wishes to say something, but is holding back. The silence stretches for 10.6 seconds before Spock continued, 

“Vulcans cannot lie, and I particularly do not wish to lie to you. While I understand the logical sentiment behind it, my experiences on Vulcan have often made me believe this bias has much more to do with just logic. Vulcans are uncomfortable with outsiders, especially outsiders that wish to reside on Vulcan. It is a near aggressive …near illogical pursuit of hegemony. Logic extremists, Hi’gayon nearly killed my sister Michael Burnham, when she was a child and my father Sarek. I cannot tell you my people exist without bias. A child approached me during my shift, a half-Vulcan child. She came asking a question that I often remember asking as a child. I could not answer.”

  
  


Jim refuses to stay quiet any longer, “Look, there is so much I want to say about that. I mean, Jesus Christ, Spock, Vulcan extremists tried to kill your family! But, look, you said you asked these same questions when you were a child, right? What would you have wanted to be told? The truth, the real truth, right?”

“Affirmative,” Spock replies. Spock remembers the one time he felt bold enough to voice his questions out loud, to his father Sarek. His father was reading in his Sif-riya. It was early in the night, the Qeriyqet outside had just begun to sing their high trills. He had experienced another day of constant harassment, and was growing weary and tired of the constant altercations. Spock recalled that it was exceptionally cold in the room, as he sat down across from his father to ask him. 

_ “Sa-mekh, is my existence… logical?” _

_ Sarek stared at him, and with a stone cold expression responded, “Surak’s teachings dictate Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations. Your existence is not only logical, but a celebration of that diversity in its combinations.” _

He recalled leaving his father’s Sif-riya disappointed with such a lackluster response, though relieved that his father hadn’t said the exact opposite. His disappointment grew as came to realize that it did not matter what Surak technically said. It did not stop his peers from detesting him and his elders from seeing him as an illogical experiment. It did not change that a millennia hegemony creating an ingrained xenophobia in the different, the supposed “illogical,” the non-Vulcan. The universe was filled with a lot of grey when it was supposed to be black and white. Vulcan was no different. 

Spock takes one look at Jim, and he knows what he must do once his shift ends, “I believe I understand my error now. Thank you, Captain. Your words have been most wise.”

The Captain beams at the praise, and chuckles. He seems to have already forgotten the dreary topic they had just discussed not a mere 6 seconds ago. 

“You’re welcome Mr. Spock,” then Jim’s face becomes dark again, “You do know if you have any trouble, anything you want to talk about, you can talk to me, right?”

“Affirmative.” Spock has no intentions of doing such a thing, if anything were to arise. He has no intention of becoming a burden to the Captain and his efficiency. He has Vulcan practices, meditation, to help him process his emotions and problems. He does not need to be reliant on Jim. The gesture behind the statement however, is well appreciated. He is glad to be reminded how much Jim cares for him.

Jim turns around to leave the lab, to leave Spock with what little time is left in his shift, “You know Spock, you’re one of the best damn First Officers in Starfleet. I don’t care what your people, or any one thinks of you. I’m glad you be working with you. I wouldn’t want anyone to be my First Officer other than you.” 

Just like that Jim is gone, out the door. And Spock is left with nothing but the swirling shock of Jim’s words that left him there staring into one of the reflective panels in the Lab. 

“Fascinating. Absolutely, Fascinating.”

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> So two things:  
> 1\. With T’Batya I have no interest in keeping her a character in the story for much longer unfortunately Starbase 32 has to be finished and done with before that can happen.   
> 2\. This is definitely one of my weaker chapters concerning this work (I tried, sorry,) Again apologize for any grammar issues, not very good with it.   
> Here’s the translated terms again some of these are actual canonical Vulcan terms while other I just loosely based on poor Hebrew transliteration  
> Hit-bode-duh - a term for a specific type of Vulcan Meditation involving secluding oneself and initiating conversation with ones “inner self” or Katra   
> 40 Eridani - one of Vulcans sun.  
> Leh-reh - 13  
> Num-zan-vel - Microscope  
> Katra- soul  
> Ye-led-ah - 16th century Golic slang for young girl.  
> Shi-Kahr - the capital city on Vulcan,   
> Kahs-wan- a survival test Vulcan children take when they are an adolescent. The go into the wilderness for 10 days without food, water, or weapons to put their logic, and ethics to the test. The test has been around before Surak and was kept because it still serves a logical purpose. Hi’gayon- the name for the logic extremist group. I would like to believe since they were able to attack Michael and Sarek they are probably a rather popular/powerful group, though still a minority   
> Sif-riya- traditional Vulcan term for a room filled with collective knowledge closest thing to a Study/Library Room  
>  Qeriyqit-a Vulcan insect that chirps like a cicada.  
> Sa-mekh-Vulcan term for father


	3. Sabel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> well damn it’s been awhile I’ve finished a couple chapters but I wanted to get more ahead before I started publishing more.  
> Grammars gonna suck sorry my dudes  
> Oh please be prepared I’m probably going to change the name of this story  
> I did it after Roberts poem because I didn’t have a title when I started writing it and was reading his poem for my ENGL 102 class so yeah.

He should not be as his mother says, “caught off guard,” to see his parents in attendance here at Starbase 32. Sarek after all is the Vulcan ambassador to the entirety of the Federation. This was an intergalactic Federation treaty meeting after all. It is realistically understandable for the attendance of the Federation ambassador from Vulcan. He is however slightly unprepared to interact with his father. As much as Spock finds it distasteful his father's presence stirs up strong emotions somewhere deep in his mind, in his katra. What those feelings are exactly, Spock rejects any interest to detangle and examine them. So Spock does the logical thing. Avoidance. There was no necessity for him to engage with his father at this meeting. His role and job were a combination of two things an honorary representative of StarFleet Federation and a security and diplomatic asset. Unless his father or his constituents were in danger there was no need for interaction. That was Spock’s preference. So Spock stayed in the shadows, critically watching each and every movement of the large number of people within the Hall. He is not the only Enterprise crew member in attendance. Both Nyota Uhura and Jim attended as well though for two vastly different reasons. Jim was here for much the same reason as he was, something similar to a trophy to be shown to those around. To represent the success of Starfleet. Jim was in his formal wear, a tight green shirt with a high collar with a golden trim. He was currently in what seemed to be a deep discussion with an ambassador for the Cardassians. Jim exuded confidence, and class. He was confident and assured in anything he was saying. Whether unfortunately or fortunately, Spock was simply too far away to pick up on anything said. Then there was Nyota Uhura, dubbed by the Captain as the best Head of Communications that Starfleet Federation ever had. Spock was inclined to agree with such an assessment. Her formal red dress with golden trim sparkled under the light. Her hair was in a neat bun. As one of the most skilled xenolinguistics of the age she was selected to be one of the many for being here in case the Universal Translators failed. As that had yet to occur, and the likelihood was drastically low (3.2 percent to be precise) she moved from table to table discussing various topics surrounding culture and linguistics. 

Nyota and Jim both seemed at ease in their current setting. Spock could not help but realize it was a stark contrast to his current status. He was not uncomfortable, per say. Comfort and lack thereof was of no consequence for a Vulcan. However, Spock still lingered away from the crowd, keeping any and all conversations short, concise, and indulging in the mere necessities of politeness. He stood, an unfamiliar drink in hand that he refused to consume, in the very back. He was content with his position, but there was no certain ease where he stood. He looked over at where his Sa-mekh resides, currently conversing with Federation Admiral Spearson. He wondered what his father would think. Think of him having human companions, friends one could say. One that brought him, not joy for that was illogical, but peace. 

Peace. Stability. Understanding. Wonder. Many things Vulcan, his home world, simply could not give. Or refused too. Would his father express displeasure in this revelation? The probability was high. Would he have any semblance of understanding? Spock doubted such a theory. Would he be able, for once, to _empathize_ with Spock’s distasteful experiences on Vulcan? As his mother would say, “when the pigs start to fly”. Spock refused to feel anger or displeasure as he watched his father continue to move about the room. He could feel it boiling deep in his thought, the heat attempting to rampage through his mind, through his Katra. Anger is illogical, it would do him no good, this was a childish reaction to the past. He was not a kan-bu any longer. Kaiidth. What is, is. Kaiidth. What is, is. The past cannot be changed, the actions etched in the rough stones of the past. He repeated this continually in his mind, using basic Algebraic equations to divert his minds growing embers of emotion. A simple technique he had learned from a Ra-pha when he was much younger after another physical altercation due to his extreme emotionalism. His efforts quickly smothered the thoughts and feelings. The beliefs of his father negislience of him and lack understanding of Spock’s position were wiped from his mind. Stuff in places where he would leave them to rest to deal with later during a Hit _-_ bode-duh session. _How unsightly_ , Spock thought. For once Spock entertained the idea of drinking the foreign liquid in his hand. 

Right before he is about to take a sip, something shifts. He can feel someone near him, someone almost close enough to breathe on him. The person refuses to move, clearly intentionally standing close to Spock’s proximity. Whoever they are they wish for his attention, and his alone. 

“Sa-fu Sarek,” the voice is low, and emotionless. It lacks personality or energy. Spock knows that voice. He knows it all too well. Within seconds he can feel the grounding exercises he had done undo themselves at the simple voice.

Spock turned to face the intruder. Sabel. A classmate of his from the Ha’sheva. One he did not remember fondly. And if Spock could predict Shimon felt the same way about him. He was tall, approximately 6 inches above Spock, making his chin meet Spock’s forehead. He was lanky, and lean. His long face was blank, devoid of any emotion. 

“Sa-fu Vurok,” Spock’s response replicated Sabel’s. Why has Sabel seeked him out? They were often on opposite sides of a towering wall that divided them as it did with many of Spock’s other peers. Sabel may deny such a claim, but Spock was fairly certain if Sabel felt anything it was disdain and disgust at Spock’s mere existence. He was keenly aware Sabel as a child most certainly did, though he cannot be certain he does now. Though, as they say in his mother’s world,  _ a chazer bleibt a chazer _ . A pig remains a pig. 

_ “A half-breed like you has no place on Vulcan.” _

_ “And neither do pigs, yet here you are. Residing on Vulcan. Fascinating.” _

Sabel and Spock’s interactions were overwhelmingly negative. Sabel did not find him disagreeable based on merit or lack thereof but due to the simple fact that his mere existence opened an avenue for Vulcans that he found repulsive. Through his childhood Sabel made this very clear. Spock knows himself to be neither a pessimist or an optimist, but merely a realist. And realistically, deducing from the dispassionate formal introduction Sabel, his views have not changed. Sabel continues to loom over Spock, his eyes seeming to scrutinize every detail of his person before responding,

“Your path has led you to Starfleet? I hear a First and Science Officer on board the esteemed Enterprise, no less. Surrounded by humans, lead by humans for the entirety of your career. Your mother must be proud.”

Spock cannot say he is caught by surprise by the inappropriate snipe. The roaring fire that had found a home in his mind seconds earlier comes back threefold. It feels like Spock is being sucked back into the past, all those lonely years ago. A looming figure towering over him mocking his very existence and every step he took to survive,  _ to thrive _ . He wants to immediately come to his own defense, to bring harsh words upon his lips and end this childishness with a swift outburst. But, that is what Sabel wants. For whatever reason Spock can not possibly hypothesize Sabel is eager to see him yet again, lose control.

Spock refuses to give him that, “Ah yes, you would be correct. My mother was incredibly pleased when I first became an Officer of Starfleet, and even more so when I became First Officer of the Enterprise. You are at the Vulcan Science Academy, still only teaching Basics in Xenobiology, correct?” 

Something flashes in Sabel’s eyes at the mention of the VSA. Spock cannot be sure to what it was, but he saw as Sabel quickly crushed whatever it was that had evoked such a response. 

“I was at the VSA, yes, but due to circumstances I have had to leave my position,” Sabel responds, “I am curious, are you here to protect and ensure the safety of those in attendance?”

“I am not at liberty to say as to why I am of attendance to this event. It is unfortunately a matter of Starfleet and its operation,” Spock does not feel immense pleasure at being able to deny satisfying Sabel’s curiosity. 

The Vulcan does not seem off put at the lack of response. In fact, Sabel seems to have expected such an answer. Spock shifts his position so he can continue to overlook the room while continuing his unfortunate conversation with Sabel. The room seemed to be continually filling with people, from all entrance ways. The chatter between different parties become near unbearable to the Vulcan’s sensitive ears. Despite that, everything was in place, and going accordingly.

“Logical. I must depart however, before I do, I will leave you with some advice that may become beneficial for you in the coming moments.”

_ How odd, _ Spock couldn’t help but think. But, his curiosity was piqued and to deny any advice regardless of how distasteful the person giving it was illogical. 

“What advice may that be?”

“Don’t let your parents and that hybrid Aenar out of your sight.”

Every part of Spock’s mind seemed to scream at that response. It was clear Sabel was insinuating the possibility of harm to his parents or T’Batya. How or why, Spock couldn’t possibly know. Spock quickly looked over into the crowd, trying to pinpoint the location of both T’Batya and his parents. He could feel his heart’s rapid thumping in his rib cage as he scanned the room to no avail. He could not find either of them, there were too many people. 

“Sabel, if you are concerned about an event occurring you should report it to Security personnel immed-“

Spock looked over to where Sabel was standing. The Vulcan was nowhere to be found. The dread rush towards him like a wave in rocky waters, any attempt at controlling his emotions lost and forgotten. He removed himself from the corner of his room, daring to move through the mass of people in the room to locate his parents or possibly T’Batya. Simultaneously Spock pulled his Communicator out. Flipping it open, the device chirping at the action.

“This is First Officer Spock of the USS Enterprise, I have been informed of a possible threat against Ambassador Sarek and his wife, and the child T’Batya of Aenar-Andorian Ambassador Shalas. The exact threat is unknown. Please make sure all proper officials are notified and prepared.” 

Spock did not bother waiting for a response. He weaved with grace between disgruntled people, glancing in every direction for his father and mother. The sea of faces was almost too much for Spock to process and compute as he continued to push through.  _ Where could they possibly be?  _ Spock found himself in a corridor, on the opposite side from where he was positioned earlier and still he could not find his parents.

Any attempt to continue to find his parents were quickly dashed, Spock took one more step and the space around him went incredibly bright, and then there was pain. A pain like no other that left him with only the ability to take short gasps of breath. He did not know where he could not feel pain. His nerves were licking at this skin, thrumming in high pitched screams. Pulsating in a rapid, quick, and efficient succession. He clamped down on the urge to scream as the pain persisted. Biting his lip and clenching his teeth. His elongated canines drawing more pain, and blood, from his lips.

He could feel the edges of his conscious blurring and fading. He fought for control as horrified cries and screams penetrated his ears. He couldn’t see anything. His vision was filled with black dots and doubles of shapes. Spock could feel heavy footsteps rushing towards what he assumed was an exit. Smoke was filling his lungs, causing him to cough harshly. Every breath was filled with pain, and though Spock had no mental capacity at the moment to calculate his chances of survival, he knew his odds were not good.

Spock was sure he was dying - and fast. He continued to struggle, to keep conscious. He knew if he closed his eyes, it would be the last time. He would lose everything, everyone. The Enterprise. The Crew. His Mother. His Father.  _ James. _

As he slowly lost consciousness, his breathing a mere hiss, and his body limp, Spock thought of James —  _ Jim. A man so bright you could have mistaken him for one of Vulcan’s suns. A katra so vast the mountains and valleys of L-langon paled in comparison. A mind sharp as that of a larpa. A body as pleasing as a blooming Shin-Ka-Ti.  _

A man Spock was proud to work under. A man who he hoped felt similar. He only wished he could have had more time with him. In one last act, Spock whispered into the chaos, 

“I am glad to have known you, James.”


	4. Spock Flashback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yawn, it’s been very long and I’m so tired, I’ve been meaning to post this for awhile. This is a flashback. Come on you know Amanda is the THE Jewish mom.

Spock is 8 when he first contemplates souls, his soul to be precise. He had just completed his course load on the katra— the soul. What was known about the katra was fascinating, what was not known was frustrating. Vulcan society held the soul in high regard. This much Spock knew even beforehand. Only now did he realize the extent. The soul was separate from the body, the essence of a person that could be transported, touched, and manipulated. A piece of somebody that was in some form of another aware and  _ alive _ long after the body had expired. Being able to place them in Katric Arks or even other people’s bodies to preserve them. Souls were absolutely fascinating and terrifying. Souls were sacred.

What was it like, to be without a body? To be nothing more than a mere shred of what once a person? Did the Katra have senses? Could it see, touch, or taste? Did it understand things like logic, and emotions? There were so many questions left unanswered that Spock couldn’t help but brim with excitement. 

“Spock. Spock! Can you please come help me?” a small but steady voice reverberated through the house. His mother was calling him towards the garden within the center of the house. He quickly detached himself from his work and went to attend to his mother.

She was beautiful, his mother, in all her lean grace and angelic features. Her hair was dark and curly peeking under her tichel, caressing her forehead. The robes his mother wore were of Vulcan style and cut but with bright, unique colors only found on Earth. She smiled all the time, causing small wrinkles to grace her cheeks and this time was no exception. Truly, to Spock, she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Not that he would ever say that out loud. The likelihood of reprimand from his father was much too high. 

“You require my assistance, mother?”

“Oh, Spock, you came so quick!” His mother hummed in approval, “Yes, can you please help me get these karanji out of my rose bushes. Some resistant Vulcan weeds, I’ll say.” 

She was hunched over pulling at the karanji. Spock desperately wishes to correct his mother on the misapplication of the Standard term “weed.” However, he does not. Karanji are not weeds but a cactus-like plant. That is a natural and crucial part of the ecosystem in the part of Shi-Kahr they resided in. Their presence was nothing but beneficial. The same could not be said for his mother’s Terran rose bushes. Thankfully, their presence on Vulcan was negligible in effect due to inability to survive harsh Vulcan temperatures and incredibly non-arable soil. Only through his mother’s guiding hand were a few rose bushes thriving in her garden. Instead of correcting his mother Spock helps crouches down beside her and helps her remove the karanji.

“Oh, my kan-bu, you should be wearing some gloves. You know how sensitive your hands are. Let me go get some,” His mother makes a move to go and acquire him gardening gloves. 

“That is unnecessary, this will take merely a few minutes. Your consideration for my well-being is appreciated and noted but unnecessary.”

His mother chuckled at his response and went to get the gloves despite Spock’s words. She gently put his hands into the soft material. He did not understand his mother’s consistent refusal to consider his arguments, and counterpoints. But he would not deny that his mother’s constant over-bearing affection and worrying for his safety greatly pleased him. Unlike his father, there was no way to doubt his mother’s deepest affection… and love. Spock had come to find she expressed it in every way she could. In every interaction they had, every action, every word was filled with love. Her soul was a vast ocean of human affection for him, and though Spock would not admit it out loud he greatly enjoyed and clung to his mother’s affection. His mother’s soul bound to his. 

Spock started to pull at the karanji, a little more gently than his mother’s harsh grasp on their roots. His mind wandered back to what he had been contemplating just a mere few minutes ago: Souls. He looked at the now destroyed karanji, did they have souls? Would a part of them outside of broken down decomposed material survive throughout the universe? He would have to ask his teacher, his T’Kher, later.

“What’s on your mind, Spock? You seem a bit preoccupied,” His mother stops what she is doing, wiping her hands on her robes.

“In the Ha’sheva we discussed the katra, the soul.I have begun to wonder…well, I suppose I have begun to wonder what it  _ means _ to have a soul, be a soul.”

“Ah, yes, a topic I found interesting as well as a child. You know when I was nine or so, I asked my rabbi what happened to souls after they die. And his response, I’ll never forget it was, “‘the answer given to us by Jewish law is complex yet simple, when we die our souls will go back to G-d where we wait for Olam Haba to be ushered in. But if you want my answer the truth is we just don’t know and maybe never will,’” His mother’s voice became a little rougher, “Nothing spectacular but as a nine year old it really made me realize how precious life is with all its little mystery’s and that it’s OK to not know things.”

Spock could not help but make a face at the mention of G-d. For reasons his father and Spock could possibly not understand his mother believed in G-d. She had been raised in a family practicing Conservative Judaism. She was strong in her faith, but oftentimes found herself doubting the idea. He did not share his mother’s supernatural beliefs, and found them quite illogical and even insulting to his mother’s intelligence. He did not understand why she, an incredibly educated woman, felt the need to believe in something where evidence was lacking. Did it bring her comfort and joy to believe in these things? Spock wasn’t so sure his mother often sounded critical of her own deity, belittling its power and ability. Humans, the complexity of their illogics was fascinating to say the least.

“I see, so you are content with the vast lack of knowledge on this subject? My T’Kher specifically discussed the case of Surak’s Katra and the transferring of his soul to individuals specifically a Surakian Priest where the Priest allowed his disciples to touch Surak’s soul. It is clear in some form of another that the katra exists long after the deceased person and that in some form or another it has a consciousness.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m content with the lack of knowledge, but understanding that it is impossible to know everything in a universe constantly growing. I am content with the unknown. Come, walk with me.”

Spock promptly complied. He was far too intrigued by their conversation to walk away now. What type of statement was that? How could anyone be satisfied with not knowing something of potential value? As much as Spock wished to disagree he acknowledged the high possibility of being unable to learn everything the universe has to offer. But to be content? Ludicrous. Logic dictates those in the pursuit of knowledge must attempt to bridge the gap between the known and unknown. Spock told his mother as such.

She laughed walking into the large entrance back in the house, “Oh, Spock, stop! You know what I meant. Look, The soul is a wondrous thing, but it’s complex. It wasn’t less than 200 years ago when both Vulcan and Human scientists alike believed there to be no soul, because they were not able to record it. Through advanced technology we have only now come to the realization that they exist. What that realization can mean for us in the future, is most certainly what I am excited about. Yes, we should try our best to discover what we can. But sometimes, even concerning our own soul, we may just not know. For now and maybe for a really long time, a lot surrounding the soul are hypotheses and beliefs.”

His mother was right, of course. At least, concerning the setback and lack of knowledge concerning the soul. Skepticism surrounding such a concept had been heavy, which to be fair made logical sense. Technology for thousands of years had not been able to detect souls. Them only being semi-recently proven meant the research on them was non-existent though the VSA was attempting to rectify this. Still, Spock did not like the unknown, particularly revolving around his own soul. 

He had just been betrothed to T'Pring before the High Mother, T’Pau. Their minds and katra barely linked by a small tether. His father notified him that their link, their Ketubot as it is called, would only grow. It would grow to the point that without proper shields and training, T’Pring would be able to  _ feel what he felt _ . He knew his father would disapprove strongly, but he could not help but feel terrified having his katra linked to T’Pring’s for the rest of his existence. The idea that the bond between their souls would become so strong, that it would transcend distance and time was terrifying, as well. Though it had only been a few years since his Ketubot ceremony, he could not fathom their link growing any stronger. He could not fathom the idea of someone else being able to share every essence of him, down to his very soul.

“Mother, what do you believe? What is the soul to you?” 

His mother sighed, and looked up, seemingly at nothing, as she pondered the question, “Well, that’s a loaded question, Spock. But… I guess the soul to me would be the most sacred part of a person. A part of a person that neither lives or dies. Something that is barely aware of its own existence but an incredibly fundamental part of who we are. A part of us, the only part that can truly touch the depths of another. That’s what a soul is to me, Spock.”

Spock didn’t know how to respond, Spock didn’t know even if he should. His mother’s response was vague and filled with bounts of illogic but the notion of it remained coherent. However, his mother’s last words intrigued him. 

“I see. I am curious, mother, how would one know when one has touched the depths of another?”

“Well, that really depends. For humans, it may be the way he smiles at you, or the way he says your name. It really could be anything. It just depends, but you’ll  _ know,  _ and when you do, you’ll do everything to keep that person besides you.”

Spock nodded along, as if he understood his mother’s poor line of reasoning. Mimicking his sa-mekh, he placed his arms behind his back and hummed pretending to seriously contemplate her words. Pretending as if he had been granted a sacred piece of knowledge. It was clear his mother’s beliefs were not in sound logic, though some of it had merit. It was time to conclude this conversation.

“I see,” Spock straightened his back a little more, “Thank you for the enlightening conversation, Mother. I must tend to my studies.”

His mother nodded, smiled, and sighed, “Yes, of course, Spock…”

Spock goes to turn away-

“One last thing though.”

Spock stops and his tracks and looks into his mother’s eyes. His mother’s eyes were always warm and gentle even at the times where her temper got the best of her.

“Will you celebrate Chanukah this year with Michael and I? Sybok might even join us for a few nights. It would be wonderful if you cared to join.”

His mother and him both know what his response would be. His response had been the same for the last two years. Yet, she still persisted in her endeavors. Foolishly hoping one day Spock would join in her illogics. He understood his mother’s desire for him to participate in Jewish traditions. But, refused to do so nonetheless. He was Vulcan, of the mind and of the soul. It was his father desired, and what T’Pau expected of him, if not the entirety of Vulcan society. 

“I… cannot, mother,” Spock wished it came out a little firmer, a little more certain than it actually did.

His mother smiled, a smile that was filled with no joy. An expression Spock had seen on his mother’s face far too often. Guilt was illogical, particularly concerning this incident. His mother was fully aware of the commitment he had made after his impulsive failure of his kahs-wan. She was aware that he had chosen the Vulcan path, the path of logic. There was no room for human customs, no room for sentimentals. 

“I understand, Spock,” She sighed, leaned down, and kissed the tip of one of his ears, “Well, I better let you get back to it.”

Spock merely nodded, and turned to depart. He did not feel guilty, he did not.


End file.
